Freedom
by V. Sourweather
Summary: Regulus confides a little in Lily. [Written for QLFC, Round 3]


_Summary:__ Regulus confides a little in Lily._

_Rating:__ T_

_Warning:__ Mention of capture and torture (non-graphic)_

_Disclaimer:__ Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, nothing belongs to me. I don't make any money out of this story._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[QLFC - Round 3]**_

_**Team: **__Tutshill Tornadoes_

_**Position:**__ Keeper_

_**Prompt:**__ (Tinikling Dance of the Philippines) Write about a character who shows grace to someone who doesn't deserve it._

_Word count (without the A/N): 1,302 words_

* * *

_**Freedom: **_**Lily Evans and Regulus Black**

Lily stared up at the ceiling and felt like she was losing all hope. She'd been taken what felt like an eternity ago, and she couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't—

A loud _clang_ rang through the basement as the door burst open and she looked up at the person standing in the doorway. It almost looked like it was… Sirius, but she knew it wasn't. There was this cruel, terrible smile plastered on his lips.

He had the same black hair and pale skin though, the same hollow cheeks that gave him a haunted look where they actually just _fit_ Sirius…

She smiled bitterly, as blood trickled down her chin as her lip split open once more.

"You remind me of _him_, y'know, Black?" she said softly.

His grey eyes grew icy as he creeped closer to her, finally towering above her. His lips were thinner than her friend's, she noticed that now, and she started laughing hopelessly.

"Who gave you the right to speak, Mudblood?" he asked, seething like a snake.

"Didn't think I needed permission to do that."

"You are locked in my basement, and I'm taking care of you."

"And you are doing such a great job at it," she taunted him.

Her wrists were still tightly bound, so tightly that she couldn't even feel her hands when she raised them up. She showed them to him, and he sneered.

"Do you really think I care about your comfort? By Merlin, are you really that naive?" he asked.

"I don't think you care, Black. I think you should though."

He barked out a laugh, and her blood froze in her veins.

"I'm wondering… Why didn't you kill me?" she asked, her eyes staring intently into his.

"Stop. Asking. Questions," he said, his voice colder than the coldest of winters she had ever known as he glared down at her.

"I think as I'm your prisoner, I have the right to know. Why didn't you kill me? You could have, we both know that. You're one of his most talented… servants, despite your youth."

He frowned. He was probably wondering why she was flattering him like this, probably thinking that she only wanted to be spared… but he didn't know her and he didn't know that she _wasn't_ like this.

She was just telling the truth. She had heard the rumours and she thought once again about an ironic parallel between the two brothers. Sirius was one of the most talented recruits among the Order, though he was young, and his brother, even younger than him, was one of the most skilled Death Eaters.

"I don't know why I didn't kill you," he finally answered. "It would have spared me from so much trouble, after all."

She let out a breathy laugh and then looked him straight in the eyes. There was something in his irises that seemed to shine, and she wondered briefly if the boy he had been was still in there, hidden deep somewhere.

She whispered that question, and he retorted almost immediately. "What, have you suddenly gone blind?"

She rolled her eyes and answered, "I wasn't talking to you. Not really, anyway."

"How mysterious…" he said, obviously making fun of her.

Clearly, he was thinking she was crazy (and maybe she was, because who in their right mind would think of a Death Eater as someone _not cruel_?). She could see it in his eyes, and she could also see that he wanted to end it right now.

But instead of panicking, she told him, "You weren't always like this, Regulus Black."

She had caught his attention with that one, it was obvious. She looked up at him and saw his raised eyebrows. He looked so much like his brother right now. When Sirius didn't understand something, he had this exact same expression. And there was something almost… innocent about the Death Eater and his angular features now that he had his eyebrows raised like that.

She tried to separate this Regulus Black from the one who had chained her down and tortured her, and she explained herself, "You weren't always this _cruel, ruthless_ man. There was a time when you were just a student, like me… or your brother."

"That's enough!" he bellowed as soon as he heard the mention of his brother. "Do not talk to me about my brother! He's always been—"

"Don't say he's always been a disgrace to your family. He's a good wizard, great even. Just like you are," she cut him off suddenly.

Perhaps she was only fighting for her survival, but this… She could say truthfully that she meant it.

"You've always been a great wizard," she continued, bright emerald eyes looking up at him. "Perhaps you weren't _good_, but you were great. And no one, _no one_, can deny that."

He looked at her intently, and she saw something perhaps akin to gratefulness in his stormy irises. And to say that all he probably ever needed was some recognition…

"Please stop talking," he suddenly begged her, and she frowned.

She had thought that people like him didn't even know how to say "please" or "thank you" to anyone, let alone a Mudblood like her. And yet here he was, something akin to distress written on his features.

She almost wanted to laugh and make fun of him, seeing his despair at being called "great," and then it occurred to her that perhaps he was so distraught because he didn't want to be so great. Not in the service of Voldemort anyway.

"You're starting to doubt everything, aren't you? That's why you haven't killed me, right?" she asked, her eyes widening at her realization.

He bit his lower lip, and he looked so much younger like this. Less haunty, perhaps.

"I never thought you would be capable of letting go of your beliefs…" She sighed, closing her eyes and lowering her head.

"I'm not letting go of anything, Mudblood," he shot back. "But he has endangered someone I care about, and I can't let him do that without a response."

She couldn't believe him and laughed at that. "And your response is to betray him?"

He held her gaze and she shrank a little. Their colour made her think of stormy clouds, and oh, how she hated storms!

"Do _not_ laugh at me, Mudblood," he seethed, and his desperate attitude disappeared under a mask of pure hatred.

"I'm just—" she started, but she thought better of it and rather said, "Look, if it's forgiveness you want, we can give it to you. But only if you let go of the things you believe in. And I know how hard that can be. I swear, you don't know how much I know that."

"I don't want forgiveness," he retorted abruptly.

"Then what is it that you want? Recognition? Power? You already have those."

He didn't answer and stood up, walking back to the door. She thought he was going to leave her here to rot, but instead, he looked back at her and smiled bitterly. Not one of these cruel smiles she had already seen adorning his face, but a real smile, even though it was a bitter one.

"All I want is freedom," he whispered, and if his voice hadn't echoed through the basement, she might have thought that she'd imagined it.

He waved his wand at her (she hadn't even noticed he had it in the first place), and in a second, she was free.

"Tell my brother I'm sorry, and that he's never going to be bothered by me again."

He left her there then, sitting on the floor of his basement and wondering what had just happened, and if she was ever going to see him again.


End file.
